Professor Layton and the Hall of Dreams
by MadMoomin
Summary: Part 2 of Professor Layton and the Third Heir (read that first) Layton and co have unlocked the mystery of the Bronev Treasure, but an interruption and a kidnapping sends their adventure down a much darker turn. When the gang discover the Hall of Dreams, they realise they are up against an evil far greater than anything they have seen yet...(Spoilers for just about everything!)
1. PRO: Three Drops of Red

**WELCOME BACK! So, apologies for abandoning 'The Fresher's Fresh Start', but I promise a rewrite. In the meantime, we're back to the Third Heir! I loved writing that story so much and I want to thank everybody who gave me support, you're all amazing! I've added the last chapter of the Third Heir so that you can pick up where we dropped off (unless you haven't read The Third Heir, in which case I suggest you do or none of this will make any sense). Enjoy!**

Prologue: Three Drops of Red

Flora stood, panting, she looked as if her guardian had just accused her of murder. "W-what?" her eyes dropped to the floor, it was a mistake, it had be a mistake! She turn her gaze onto Luke, had he known about this? But one look at the boy's horrified expression told her otherwise, so, there were thing the professor didn't tell his trusty assistant.

Layton walked towards Flora, taking a small and aged book out of his pocket. "This is yours, my dear," he said, handing it to her. "It was left to you by your father, the one that brought you up, and I'm sure it will mean more to you than any amount treasure St Mystere has to offer."

"But, what is it?" Luke couldn't help himself from asking, despite the tenderness of the moment.

Flora stroked the leather cover of the book with her thumbs, she recognised this thing. She had just remembered it's identity when the professor turned and continued his story. "This is the late Baron's diary, Bruno gave it to me earlier. I have come across it before, but there were vital pages that I missed." He began to make his way over to the steel bowls. "It tells of his first meeting with Layla, or 'Viola' as she had renamed herself." Descole winced, there was no denying it now, countless times Layla had suggested Viola as a baby name because that was what she had always wanted to be called. "Later it says that Viola told Augustus that she had run away from her former husband, as he was creating contraptions that could seriously harm someone. She says that he was neglecting his family more and more." He reached the middle bowl and stroked the edge of it. "This is when I began to have my suspicions, so I made quick trip to London to gather more evidence. Sure enough, I found a file on Viola, which showed a record of changing her name from 'Layla Sycamore'." He turned to Descole. "So, do you need anymore evidence?" Descole had been listening in stunned silence, Layton didn't have any reason to lie, did he? His mouth quivered in shock, this couldn't be right, how could she have been there the entire time without him knowing…

And yet he had known, now that he thought about it, deep down he had known something. There were so many things Flora had said, so many gestures she had made that were just so… Layla…

"But… Papa…" Flora was looking at the book mournfully, tears were welling up in her eyes.

"Flora…"

"No!" She clutched the diary to her chest. "He isn't my Papa! He isn't my Papa! This!" She gripped the book tighter. "THIS was my…" Her voice trailed off and she began to sob, with low moans of "Oh, Papa…"

"Flora." She looked up as she felt the warm, reassuring hand of the professor land on her shoulder. He gave her a sad smile that comforted her no end. "Some people say it's the people that bring you up that are your real parents, and there's a lot of truth in that." He managed to look even sadder. "I should know."

Flora looked into those deep, brown eyes and instantly felt more sorry for the professor than she had ever felt for herself. He had been broken in so many places, so much had been taken from him. Arguably, her life looked similar, but he always picked up the pieces, always made it through without so much as batting an eyelid. How must it feel to wake every morning only to remember the long list of people you'll spend the day without? People always marveled at the professor's legendary intelligence, his fantasy-like-sword fighting, his master tea brewing skills, but the ability that was always over looked was how to keep on living when there's nothing to live for. It would keep on being over looked, there was nothing anyone could do about that, so Flora felt proud to be one of few that appreciated it.

In one moment, in one shish of a black cape, Flora disappeared from underneath his finger tips. "NO!" Luke cried disparagingly. In the time it took for Layton to turn around, Descole was standing by the bowls, one arm around Flora's neck, the other holding a sword. The ugly grin had returned to his face.

"Well done Layton, applause! Bravo! Whatever else you want, now let's get this thing open."

"No!" Flora protested, she pulled at his arm, only causing him to tighten his grip.

"Flora!" Luke charged at them. Descole pointed the sword at him so that the point lightly pressed on the boy's chin, preventing him coming any closer.

"Luke…" Flora gasped, her face as pale as a sheet. He returned her terrified expression, close to tears, he stepped back. Flora began to struggle and kick her legs.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you." Descole hissed. "I'm getting blood from you one way," he replaced the arm he that was holding her back with the sword, making her give a small 'yelp!'. "Or another."

"Let her go, Descole." Said the professor, sharply but calm. "She is to do this willingly or not at all." Descole hesitated, then sighed sadly, Layton had no means of stopping him doing whatever he liked with the girl, but it was easier not to have the argument. He let go and took a step back. No sooner had he removed the blade from her throat, Flora ran to the professor and wrapped her arms around him, sobbing into his shoulder. He held her at arms length and looked at her solemnly. "Flora, you and you alone can help us unlock this mystery, but I will not," he shoot a sideways glance at Descole. "Have anyone make you do anything." Flora sniffed sadly, and nodded.

"I'll do it." She half whispered. She turned around and stood in front of the middle bowl (very cautious of Descole), took out the penknife she found in the study and flicked open the blade. She hesitated, not sure whether or she wanted to slice open her flesh, but then she saw Descole make a sudden moment in the corner of her eye and quickly cut across her thumb. The pain made her panic slightly, but she did her best not to let it show. She held her thumb over the bowl and let a few drops of blood fall into it. After a few moments, the bowl began the glow red, by this time Descole had already cut his hand with sword and deposited his blood into the bowl. Without even looking at him, Descole passed the sword to the professor, who followed suit before he could change his mind.

When all three bowls were glowing, the room began to shake and the whir of machinery could be heard behind the wall in front of them, suddenly it split down the middle and the halves began to separate. The grinding of stone against stone was so loud it drowned out the horrified gasps from the younger two. Flora began to back away in fear when the all too familiar hand of Descole gripped her by the shoulder making her freeze solid. "You're not going anywhere." He snarled. "Your place is here as much as it is mine, you are to see out until the end." Another hand was placed on her other shoulder, this time she looked up to see the professors friendly smile. Finally, a hand took her own, she looked over and saw Luke, his face stained with tears of fear, but still wearing a proud smile. She turned back to the wall in front of her, the opening was growing wider and wider.

This was it. By opening that door, she had just started something huge, and she would see it out to the end no matter what. After this, no more lies, no more secrets, no more 'it's for your own good'. It was time to face the truth, which was okay, because she wouldn't have to do it alone.


	2. Chapter 1: The Bronev Treasure is Found

**So, the actual story! Hope you enjoy!**

Chapter 1: The Bronev Treasure is Found

Dust filled the room as the ear-splitting grinding came to a stop with a load boom. A golden light fell across the floor, blinding them as they stared in horrified wonder. For a while, no one so much as spoke, frozen by their amazement, the light turning them into golden statues. To the surprise of them all, including her own, Flora was the first to move, slowly inching her way into the now revealed room as her footsteps echoed in the silence. She was in the room, close enough that the blinding light no longer concealed it's contents. A small gasp broke the others out of their stupor, once they remembered where they were, they all jogged over to see what they had just uncovered.

"... Wow…" Luke breathed, awestruck.

"... W-what…?" This from Descole. "... But… But this is..."

The room they were standing in was small, at least, in comparison to the one they had just come from. The lighting had been a result of the walls, floor and ceiling being painted in a glittering gold, with lights reflecting off them. Objects were strewn across the floor, which on closer inspection, turned out to be childrens toys; cars, teddy bears and even a large wooden rocking horse in the corner. There was also furniture, such as a coffee table and two armchairs. In fact, with all of these normal, everyday items, the place looked more or less like a typical living room, other than the lack of windows and the photographs hanging from the ceiling. There were dozens of these, pictures without frames dangling from wires of different lengths, so that Luke and Flora had to dodge them as they ventured into the room. Flora caught one of them and had a closer look: it seemed to be quite old, featuring a family of four, the father undoubtedly Leon Bronev. There was also a mother Flora didn't recognise, but the two young boys were what really caught her attention, one standing proudly with a large grin who looked about eight, the other giggling in his mother's arms who couldn't be older than 5. They all looked so… Happy...

"... Oh!" She exclaimed. "Is this you, professor?" The professor walked over and took the photo from her, then turned a little red.

"It...Would seem so." The professor mumbled, a little embarrassed. Flora giggled and began to wonder around the room, looking at pictures as she went. Every photo featured the same four characters, sometimes posing as a family, but more often than not they were of the two young boys play together (Flora also noticed that many of the toys they had matched those in the room). She found one of the two brothers in a garden, the older one with an arm around the young professor, it occurred to Flora that, if this was the professor's birth family, the other boy must be…

A large crash brought an end to this line of thought. Flora turn to the source of the noise. Descole had turned one of the arm chairs on its side and was examining the bottom of it. "W-what are doing?!" Luke cried, a little startled. Descole barely noticed him and continued to search the room, muttering to himself.

"It has to be here, there has to be some clue somewhere…"

"Descole." The professor said sternly. Descole turned to him, glaring. "There is no point looking for further clues, it is rather clear, that this _is_ the Bronev Family Treasure." Descole paused and glared at him for a moment, shaking with irritation. He kicked the wall and stomped into the corner, _acting like a child _Luke couldn't help thinking. "You said yourself that Leon Bronev built this place shortly after joining Targent," the professor addressed the sulking man. "I believe that, at that point, he had realised that he was in danger of forgetting what was important, what his family meant to him." He looked around the handsome room solemnly. "My guess is that he planned to return here some day with his sons, to show them how things had once been, even though they could never be the same again." He found another photo, this one of the mother, _his _mother, sat smiling in a chair. "... This room was made to hold many memories, everything we see in here played an important role in preserving them. Bronev's memories were truly his greatest treasure."

"Congratulations, Layton." The four all turned at the sound of new voice. While they'd been distracted with their find, someone had entered the underground room. They were now hiding in the shadows, clapping sarcastically. "Of course, I know better than to underestimate you, but I never expected this!" The mysterious visitor's footsteps could now be heard, the group were frozen in fear, the voice was very familiar. "Then again, this is the great Professor Layton we're talking about! I should have known you could solve this without my help." Recognition appeared on the professor's face.

"It… Can't be…" He stammered. The intruder did not to hear him, but the footsteps came to a sudden stop.

"I won't be needing this then, will I!" Something flew through the air and landed at their feel, exploding with red liquid as it hit the concrete ground. When she dared to look, Flora saw it was a clear plastic bag swimming on pool that had recently been its contents. Even from a distance, she could just make out the words written on it, but immediately wished she hadn't and had to clasp her hands over her mouth to prevent herself from throwing up.

_Leon Bronev_

"I-is that…" Luke echoed her thoughts. "Is that his… Blood?"

"Observant as always, aren't we, Trition?" This sent a chill down Luke's spine, now he recognised the voice. "Anyway, I have to say Layton, even we didn't know that Bronev had a living grandchild, this information will be very… Useful…"

"Who are you…" Descole growled. "You have no right to be here!"

"That's never stopped us before, nor do I intend on letting it do so." The speaker now stepped into the light, causing Flora to gasp.

"Hu?" She gaped. "I-Inspector… Ch-Chelmey?"

"Nice to see you all again."

**Dun dun duuuuuun! What's Chelmey doing there? What was he doing with a pouch of Bronev's blood? Isn't he supposed to be missing? All will be revealed! Hope you liked the chapter and please review! **


	3. Chapter 2: Familiar Faces

**Hey! Sorry this is late! But hopefully worth the wait! Enjoy!**

Chapter 2: Familiar Faces

_What is he doing here? What's he doing with that blood? What is he talking about? What's going on here!? _Luke stared at Chelmey in bewilderment, at the pool of sickening red liquid; there could only be one reason for bringing it, he wanted the door open, and something told him that it wasn't just to solve another mystery.

"Shame," Chelmey continued sadly. "That the 'treasure' wasn't the large pile of gold we expected, that would have been far more useful. Still," He grinned wickedly. "Our main goal has been accomplished."

"And what would that be?" Descole spat with a sarcastic laugh which sounded slightly mad, unnerving the others. Perhaps this was his way of showing he was panicking.

Chelmey sighed and scratched the back of his head awkwardly. "I'm afraid that's classified, let's just say," the twinkle in his eye as he said this was enough to make Luke gag. "That you will continue to work for us… Obliviously." The horror of this statement struck them all differently; Luke gasped, suddenly realising that they been doing the grouchy detective's work all along. Flora, who's eye's were already brimming, now let the tears roll down her pink cheeks. The professor had a look of deep thought on his face, perhaps the closest he ever let him to anger. Descole, however, was acting very odd; clenching and unclenching his fists and baring his teeth like some wild animal, was this fury? Or… humiliation. "Now, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you all to leave the premises-"

"Ha! Make us!" Descole was trembling so much it affected his speech, _what was wrong with him?_

"I was hoping," Chelmey said abruptly. "That wouldn't be necessary, but, if you insist." He clicked his fingers; almost instantly the room filled with people, henchmen. There must have been about fifteen of them, forming a line behind Chelmey and raising rifles at the party. The four gasped in horror, Luke and Flora moved closer to the professor; these must have been the 'uniformed men' seen around town. As if the scene wasn't bad enough, all but Flora were suffering daja vu.

The soldiers uniforms… There was no mistaking it...

"Now." Chelmey rubbed his hands together. "I strongly suggest you come quietly, otherwise, well…" He indicated behind him. "... I don't think I need to explain the details."

"You… You rat!" Stuttered Descole, his shaking even worse now.

"Chelmey! What is the meaning of this?" The professor tried desperately to talk some sense into him.

Chelmey put his hands in his pockets and shrugged. "I have to be honest with you Layton, some of us had unfinished business in Targent."

"Targent…?" Flora let the work roll on her tongue, trying to remember where she'd heard it before. When she remembered, she clung even tighter to the professor's arm.

"There's a whole lot more to be done, a lot of unfinished work." He laughed cruelly. "But you don't need to worry 'bout all that! Right now, all you need to worry about is whether you get a bullet in the head or not!" Chelmey turned and began to walk towards the exit. "So… Which will it be?" Three henchmen began to move towards the four. The professor turned to Descole, fearing that he may act rashly; however, Descole seem to have calmed himself down miraculously. He sighed sorrowfully and… walked towards the guards. _What!? _The minions themselves looked just as surprised as Luke was. _He's giving himself in? Just like THAT?! No way! Not in a million years would he just-_

… _Oh…_

Still confused, the henchmen went to grab Descole's arms. In one swift movement, Descole reached across his waist, drew his sword and pointed it at them threateningly; bewildered, they began to step back.

"IDIOTS!" Chelmey screamed at them. "YOU HAVE GUNS!" As one man the guards began to fumble for their weapons, but too late. Descole slashed at their knees, as they doubled over in pain he leapfrogged over the middle one ran towards the rest. In a few short seconds the room was a battle field, all the guards had charged at Descole, who was sending them flying in directions. Chelmey was shouting orders, but nothing could be heard above the din. The professor saw him run to the stone stairs and call something about reinforcements up them.

"Um… Professor! Look out!" The professor turned at his apprentice's warning. Two guards were approaching them, one with blood oozing from a crooked nose, both looking ready to murder somebody…

"Layton!" Descole called. While holding a henchmen in a headlock, he pulled a second sword from a hidden scabbard and threw it through the air that the professor. He expertly caught it and held it out towards the enemy, his free arm protectively outstretched in front of the younger two. Something yellow flashed in the corner of his eye, and before he could get a better look he had been pushed from behind. The concrete floor grazed his palms as they met, the professor pushed himself onto his hands and knees and glanced back at Luke and Flora; to his horror they had been caught by the guards and were now struggling in their grip. The sword only lay a foot away from him, and just as he was about to make a grab for it, a blade pressed on his chest. There was a thud and a groan, followed shouts a laughs which, given the despairing gasps from Luke and Flora, must have been Descole finally being overpower by the guards. It was hopeless now, they'd lost, but at that point in time, he didn't really care; all he could think about at that moment was how much he wanted to be wrong. There had been a few times where we wished, more than anything, to be wrong; when he had watched his best friend fall into a chasm, when he had seen the flames engulf the laboratory Claire was working in, plus many more horrible occasions. Now, staring up at the one who had pinned down under sword, stone faced and real as ever, he wished and hoped and prayed that he might just be wrong…

"Well done, Miss Altava." Chelmey strolled over, applauding. "Excellent as always."

"E-Emmy! What are you-!" Luke tried to struggle against the henchman's grasp, but ended up with a hand cutting off his sentence.

"Now, lets get this over with. Take them outside." Chelmey waved dismissively and headed up the stairs. Emmy nodded at him, then turned back to her victim. As they were all dragged out of the room, the professor craned his neck to look at Emmy, searching her eyes for any sort of emotion that might suggest this wasn't what it looked like; sadness, fear, recognition, anything, but there was nothing, just anger.

**(I'm sorry) **

**By the way thank you so much to LittleBrotherSocket for the amazing drawing of the last scene in The Third Heir! (check out my Pinterest account Mad Moomin to see it!) Hope you all love it as much as I do! Please review!**


	4. Chapter 3: Rescue!

**So, welcome back! Thank you to everyone who reviewed! Something I want to mention is that, so I can get onto other stories quicker, from now on I'm going to try to upload chapters on Wednesdays as well as weekends! (Please nag me about it if I don't). Random thing, did anyone see the news story about the human jaw bone dating back 400,000 years before humans were supposed to have evoloved? THE AZRAN REALLY DID EXIST! Anyway, enjoy the chapter!**

Chapter 3: Rescue!

Flora had her hands held behind her back by the same guard that had caught her; beside her Luke was in the same situation, but, unlike his usual self, was making no attempt to resist. He looked frighteningly dead to the world, the only indication that he was aware of his surrounding being occasional glances at the woman in yellow just in front of them, who had the professor's arms held behind his own back; he too looked utterly devastated. Back in the stone room, Flora had heard Luke call her Emmy, but surely she wasn't THE Emmy? The Emmy they vaguely mentioned when telling stories of their past adventures, but whenever Flora questioned further they changed the subject. The Emmy that, although they obviously missed her, they never invited her around. Was this why? Had she joined their enemy? Had she betrayed them?

In front of the professor, four henchmen dragged an unconscious Decole up the stairs and through the Walker's home. The party was lead by Inspector Chelmey, and surrounded by the remaining guards, holding rifles or helping some of the more unlucky minions walk. Flora looked around desperately, searching for something, _anything, _that could help them now. The others had long since given up, knowing it was hopeless, but Flora wasn't going to accept that.

Once out of the front door, Flora saw it must be early morning already; the sun was just peeking over the horizon and a cold, indigo light lit the area. A large helicopter, much like those used in the Army, was landed in front of the house, it's propellers already whirring, prepared to take off at any moment. The scene had attracted some horrified spectators, some still in their pajamas, so eager they had been to see what all the commotion was, but with all the weaponry about they had obviously decide to keep a distance. Chelmey climbed up into the helicopter and disappeared somewhere inside while more guards came to help raise Descole up into it. It was then that the panic struck; Flora stopped walking, then began to kick and scream, unsuccessfully trying to squirm out of her captor's grip, but still making making his job much harder. Luke looked at her vacantly, mumbled something about her just making things worse, but she wouldn't listen. She had no idea what they would do with her once they reached their destination, but she had a horrible image of spending the rest of her life in some dark cell, alone. _They can't take me away, not now, not after everything! I can't lose everything now!_

"Look out!" Flora whipped her head around just in time to see the caller, a figure running towards them. She couldn't take in their appearance before they threw something at them. Instantly, the air filled smoke, thick and white, stinging her eyes and throat. Her guard let his grip loosen, violently coughing behind her. Flora knew this was her chance of escape, but without being about to open her eyes and knowing people were running about, searching for their prisoners, she could only stumble about, coughing and trying to get her breath. this was not good, she sank to her hands and knees and tried to get away from the ruckus, hoping she was going in the direction of the bushes that she had hidden behind when following Descole a few days before; if she could reach them, she could hide until the smoke cleared. Out of nowhere a hand grabbed her wrist and yanked her to her feet, then pulled her along with it. Bewildered, Flora wasn't sure weather to follow or pull away, so just let herself get dragged behind the mysterious person. Soon the smoke was behind them, and, to her relief, she saw the professor and Luke running along side her. The rescuer let go of her, and that now she could seen again, it was obvious that this man was the one she'd seen throw the smoke bomb just seconds earlier. He wore a red suit and had short brown hair, with wisps of grey. He was old but clearly in good shape, as he was the fastest runner there.

"GET THEM! BRING THEM BACK HERE!" Chelmey's screams were far behind them by this point. The old man lead them down an empty street, turning at every junction so as to lose any pursuers. After running for another five minutes they ducked behind some bins to catch their breath.

Still gasping for air, the professor gave their rescuer a warm smile. "Good to - *huff* - good to so you again, Raymond."

"Aye, the feeling's mutual." The man replied in a Scottish accent, peering around the corner to make sure no one was coming.

Flora had no time to ask how the two knew each other before Luke spoke up. "But, they still have Descole!" He blurted out, panic in his eyes. Raymond didn't move, just chewed his lip thoughtfully.

"Is it definitely Targent we're dealing with?" He asked the professor, who nodded gravely. "In that case we should make a move. If I know Targent, they won't want to stick around for long. They'll search for us a little while longer, then they'll make tracks. We'll have to follow them back to their station to help him."

"But, how?" Flora managed between breaths. "They - *huff*- have a helicopter, we'll never - *huff* - keep up with them!" Raymond turned to her and smiled, a proud twinkle in his eye.

"That's where I come in." He said, then got to his feet. "Come on, just a bit further."

* * *

They found their way out of the village and into the surrounding fields without much trouble. After crossing about a mile of farmland, they came to a large barn. Raymond found a key in his pocket and took off the padlock and chain that connected the two huge doors and pulled them open. Inside, cushioned on the piles of straw, was an odd looking orange plane that almost touched the roof of the barm. Luke gasped. "I-it's the Bostonius!"

Raymond grinned merrily at him. "Welcome back on board."

**You have no idea how hard it is to write Raymond after a certain event in 'Bonds Left Unbroken' by The Mocking J ;-; still, please leave your thoughts in the reviews! **


	5. Chapter 4: The Hall of Dreams

**Hey! So, I didn't post on Wednesday :/ sorry about that, but I will try and make it a thing, but for now, enjoy the chapter!**

**Disclaimer: I do not own professor layton, if I did I'd be writing this by a swiming pool somewhere Mediterranean rather than in my bedroom. I really need to remember to put these disclaimers in.**

Chapter 4: The Hall of Dreams

Raymond barely looked at the controls as the engine whirred into life and the Bostonius taxied to a field that would make a suitable runway. The Targent helicopter had long since left, but apparently, in the confusion of the smoke bomb, Raymond had placed a tracking device somewhere on it, and was now locating it on a screen. He switched effortlessly between flying the plane and taping several control panels, while discussing action on arrival with the professor; it was quite interesting watching two people of great intellect make a plan together, bouncing an idea back and forth between them, correcting and contributing, until they had a whole scheme worked out. Meanwhile, Luke took Flora on a quick tour around the Bostonius, suppressing the painful memories of Emmy and Aurora. Soon, the professor insisted they got some rest, as it was already morning and none of them had slept for nearly twenty-four hours.

It was nearly impossible to sleep after everything they'd seen, but they got about three hours sleep before a gentle awakening from the professor. Luke, once he remembered where he was, ran to the front of the Bostonius, where Raymond was still managing the controls. He squinted into the foggy distance, and could just make out a building; it looked like a small factory, and judging by the surrounding, it seemed as if they were in some kind of moors. The place was heavily guarded, surrounded by several fences and people with guns. Luke gulped. "We're… Going… In there?"

"Aye." Raymond replied without so much as batting an eyelid. "... But don't worry, we have constructed a plan to get you in safely…"

* * *

Once inside the building (Luke spent years trying to work out how they managed it) They discovered to their relief that there was no one guarding the indoors, probably thinking that with all the security outside, there was no need. Raymond was still in the Bostonius, ready to dive in if they needed to abort the plan. Flora, after much arguing, was also left in the air ship, although the professor was quite bemused as to why Luke took her side of the quarrel.

They wandered through the corridors, following signs that pointed in the direction of the "Hostage Cells", which, according to Raymond, was where Descole was most likely to be. While making their way through the network of corridors, the professor couldn't help thinking how the whole thing felt… wrong. It was all too easy. Sure, there was the odd door locked with a puzzle, but other than that, far, far too easy…

"Ah! There you are!"

"Wah!" Luke cried in surprise as he and the professor whipped round to see who had addressed them.

"Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to scare you." Flora apologised, stepping out from behind a corner. "I… I just you'd might like to-"

"Flora?" The professor said in his rare, scolding tone, making bother children wince. "I pacifically told you to stay on the Bostonius!… How did you get in here?"

Flora fiddled with her fingers uncomfortably. "Umm… Raymond found another way in, and he said I could come and find you if I wanted…" She grinned and gestured down the corridor she had just emerged from. "But I've found something really interesting! Come and see!" And with that, ran off back the way she came.

"Fl-FLORA! Wait!" Luke called, then dashed off after her. The professor stood still, stunned for a moment, before following the two; he was going to have to have a stern word with Raymond later on…

* * *

"- I managed most of the puzzle doors fine on my own," Flora told Luke when the professor found them. "But this one is so hard I couldn't begin to work it out!"

"Excuse me," Luke and Flora turned to the professor sheepishly as he spoke. "You mustn't run of like that, either of you. Remember, we're in an Targent base, not a playground." They stared at their feet guiltily. "You need to have more regard for your own safety, I'd expect more from you two, especially you, Luke. And Flora, if I ask you to stay somewhere, you are to do just that. Understand?"

"Sorry, professor." Flora managed weakly, shuffling nervously. "... It's just… I found this and thought…" She looked up sorrowfully. "You may as well just see it yourself." The professor sighed, and stepped forward to inspect Flora's findings; it was a large door, much bigger than the other's they'd come across. It looked very much like a vault, and also was locked with a puzzle, but as Flora had previously stated, it was extremely complicated. However, the most curious part was probably the sign above the door.

"... Hall of Dreams?" The professor read aloud. Flora nodded.

"I have no idea what it could be." She chatted as the professor set to work on the puzzle. "I mean, the only thing I could think of was a 'hall of fame', and if that's a place someone keeps a record of people who have completed some sort of feat, perhaps this could be where Targent keep a record of… Well, dreams." Flora had a bit of a habit of talking like a dictionary when she wanted to redeem herself.

"But… Why would they do that?" Luke asked, at this, Flora just shrugged.

There was a sort of 'boom' sound as the puzzle was defeated. The younger two applauded the professor as he stood upright to face the vault. He hushed them, then slowly pulled the door open.

At first, they saw nothing but total darkness. Some lights automatically flickered on, filling the room with a dim light. The room itself was quite spectacular; it was a circular dome, about 50 meters in diameter. The floor and walls were made of polished white stone tiles, which, in the case of the wall, was replaced every so often with a light panel the same size and shape. The light intensity increased for a little while,bouncing off the tiles and making the whole room gleam. However, the three didn't even register these details. They were staring in horrified shock at what occupied the room. Row upon row of hideous machines, about 2 meters high and a meter across and deep. Covered in flashing lights, bulging wires and control panels. Dials, screens, beeping sounds taking up every surface of the metallic boxes.

And strapped into every machine, an unconscious human being.

**In case your wondering, the front cover is a drawing of one of those machines. Thanks for reading and please review!**


	6. Chapter 5: The Sleeping Scientists

**Well... It's been a while...**

**Sorry that I've been gone so long, but now that the time of exam season is upon us I have returned to my favourite form of procrastination :) I hope you still remember where the story is going (if not in two chapter's time I'm going to post Luke's notes as a sort of summery of the events so far, so you can just wait for that). Enjoy!**

Chapter 5: The Sleeping Scientists

How to describe it? How to describe the feelings felt that awful moment? Shock? Fear? Greif? It all flooded in, all hit the three like a wave of icy water. The horror of the moment froze time, turning seconds into hours and threatening their sanity.

After what felt like forever, the professor took a deep breath and cautiously stepped into the room. "Stay here." He whispered back at Luke and Flora, but there was little meaning in the words and they followed anyway. Their footsteps echoed in the dome, the only sound other that the beeping of the machines and the soft breathing of the unconscious people; they were all adults, mostly men but there were quite a few women. Their clothing suggested they came from many different backgrounds, and the professor couldn't shake the horrible feeling that many of the faces seemed vaguely familiar. He took a deep breath, and slowly stepped towards the nearest machine with the younger two close on his tail; as shocking as the scene was, staring and gawking at it wasn't going to help anyone, they would have to investigate.

* * *

They toured through the room, looking at each machine, trying to make sense of them, but to no avail. Each one was perfectly identical to the next other than their occupant and a silvery plate that stated their name, occupation, hometown and country. As they read these plates, the connection quickly formed itself in the professor's mind: these people were scientists, mathematicians and other well known geniuses, people who had made the front page for their inspirational work. As they passed more horrible machines, it became clear that many of the scientists were the same people that had be confined in the underground 'London' just months before, although it was clear that many more people had been gathered here. He shared his thoughts with Luke and Flora, who just nodded blankly. "... Are you alright?" He enquired, as the two looked a little worse for wear. Luke just nodded again in reply, not even looking at the professor, but at the rows of unconscious beings, he would have to get them both out of here as soon as possible.

Flora had remained silent, and it wasn't until a short while after the professor had checked on them that she spoke. "Just… How could… How could anyone do this?" she stammered. "What could they… Possibly be thinking?" The professor remained silent, as he honestly didn't know to answer or console her.

They had come to about half way through the room when Luke fell behind. The professor turned to see what was holding him up, to find him rummaging through his note book. "Is everything alright, Luke?" He questioned, joining his apprentice. The boy nodded and peered back at the silver plate of one of the machines.

"Yes, professor… It's just… I swear I've heard this name recently…" He continued to flick through the book. The professor then turned to the man strapped into this particular machine. He had neat blonde hair and looked as if he were in his twenties. He was well dressed and in good shape, and even in his current state had an air of pride about him. "... I- I've got!" Luke exclaimed, handing the notes to the professor. "It's James Downing! The mathematician who went missing in !"

"Of course…" The the professor agreed, reading the the detailed scribbles. With everything that had happened, Mr Downing's disappearance, which they had gone to to investigate in the first place, had completely slipped his mind. Early on in the adventure, he had had a feeling that the 'ghost' and the kidnapping had been connected, but there was just one detail that seemed out of place... "Tell me, Luke, do see the difference between Mr. Downing's disappearance and that of all the other victims here?"

"Umm…" Luke glanced about the room desperately. "... No, professor… Not really… I guess James Downing was the only one we knew about."

"My point exactly."

"Hey?"

The professor handed back the book and looked sympathetically at the mathematician; if only he could make sense of these controls, he could help these people. He had no idea what these things were doing to them, what horrors Targent were putting them through. If he could, he would go around and free everyone in this room, even if it meant getting caught. As it was, he knew that pushing random buttons would most likely cause more harm. He sighed, then turned back to his apprentice.

"_James Downing was the only one we knew about." _The professor echoed the boys statement. "Or in other words, the only one to be recorded missing." Luke gasped, the professor was right; there were perhap hundreds of people here, trapped here for goodness knows how long, and yet it seemed that no one had noticed.

"Umm… Professor…" Luke and the professor turned towards Flora's voice to see her a few metres away, staring down a row of machines.

"Flora!" Luke called as they jogged towards her. "Please don't wander o-" But he stopped when he saw just how pale her face was. Luke followed her frightened gaze, and his heart skipped a beat.

* * *

As if Emmy and Chelmey weren't bad enough, they were now met with a whole row of machines housing people they knew. Luke scanned over them in spine chilling horror; to name just a few, among them were Clive Dove, Dimitri Allen, Don Paolo, Oswald Whistler and many more. Towards the end of the line up, they found Descole, bruised, battered and without his hat and mask, but otherwise seemingly unharmed (_well at least we've found him, _Luke thought to himself). Finding Descole had not really come as a surprise due to what they had already witnessed, it was the man in the machine beside him that caught them off guard.

"B-but… Professor! I thought… You said he was dead!" Luke stammered, going a little weak at the knees.

The professor cupped his chin in his hand thoughtfully. "Hmm… It would seem I was misinformed, no doubt by Targent." He said decisively. It was certainly very strange; why would Targent keep Leon Bronev, of all people, in this state, then lie about his death? Other than his unconsciousness, he seemed very much alive and not so different from when they had last met almost three years ago at the ruins of the Azran sanctuary. Plus, Bronev was supposed to be in prison, why would Targent go into the trouble of getting him out only to do this to him?

Luke, by this point, had directed his interest to Descole's silver plate, which read:

Name: Hershel Bronev / Jean Descole / Desmond Sycamore /

Occupation: Former chairman of the CATS (Combined Anti-Targent Society)

Hometown: Unknown

Country: United Kingdom

Luke felt something stir inside him as he read this. He wasn't shocked or confused by what was written, he was just… Angry. He didn't know why, but of all the terrible things Targent had done, after all the lives they had ruined, they could still stoop this low!? Of course, Luke wasn't upset on Descole's behalf, he positively hated the man, but to take someone's hidden life, their backstory, their secrets, and just display like cakes in a shop window? It was diabolical!

"Luke… Are you ok?" Flora asked, worriedly, as her friend had gone quite red. Luke just nodded and straightened up. It was strange, for the first time, Targent had made him angry; not scared, or worried or determined or sad, just angry.

"They can't do this to people…" He whimpered. He looked up at the professor, a belly full of fire. "We're going to stop them, aren't we? We'll stop Targent, and make sure they never come back, won't we?" The professor was a little taken back by Luke's sudden change of attitude, but, he thought, perhaps this was what the boy needed to keep him going. He smiled at his apprentice and nodded.

"And I'll help, too." Flora reassured them, laying a friendly hand on Luke's shoulder.

"Well, that's all very beautiful." The party swung around as Chelmey appear out of the blue, surrounded by guards, including Emmy. "Speaking of beautiful things, I hope you've had the time to admire my Dream Catchers."

"Dream Catchers?" The professor mumbled. He frowned as he found his words. "Inspector, what is the meaning of this? This is no way to treat any life form, let alone human beings!"

"Really? I never thought of it that way." Chelmey chuckled, patting a nearby machine. "We make sure they're healthy and they're enjoying themselves, what better conditions can you get?"

"Enjoying themselves!?" Luke spat in a fury. "How can anyone enjoy themselves like this!?" Chelmey grinned at him wickedly.

"I would love to explain, I could spend all day telling you all there is to know about this marvelous creation." He sighed somewhat sadly, yet still grinning. "But, that is time we do not have. However, you, Layton, will understand all you need to know very soon." He held out his arm, indicating to a an empty machine. From here they could just read the silver plate, but they only needed to see the first line.

Name: Theodore Bronev / Hershel Layton

Before the true terror of this could sink in, Emmy had already grabbed the professor's wrists and had them pinned behind his back.

"N-no! Professor!" Luke and Flora chorused. They rushed to the professor's aid, only to be caught by other guards.

"Emmy! Please, don't do this to us!" The professor pleaded, but Emmy did not speak or even look him in the eye.

As the three resisted, Chelmey began to give the henchmen instructions. "Altava, bring Layton this way with me. You three, put the boy in a cell. You." He addressed the guards who had caught Flora. "You know what to do, now be about your business, all of ya!"

"No!" Flora kicked and screamed as she was dragged away, reaching out for the professor and Luke.

"Flora!" Having deciding that trying to reason with his former assistant was getting nowhere, he attempted to struggle from her grip. It was a fruitless effort, and only caused more guards to hush over to help keep him restrained. In the hassle, the iconic top hat was knocked from his head and was left rolling on the stone floor. Because of the commotion, no one saw one of the unconscious beings begin to twitch.

"There's no point in acting like this Layton." Chelmey, sighed, disappointedly. "You're just wasting your own energy. Not that you'll be needing it any time so-" He was cut off by a sudden whirr of machinery, followed by the sound of compressed gas being released. All present froze as Descole's figure fell from the machine onto his hands and knees, gasping and spluttering.

**If this has you on the edge of your seat, I apologize in advance for the next chapter.**


	7. Chapter 6: What Makes a True Gentleman

**Warning! Sad chapter! Enjoy!**

Chapter 6: What Makes a True Gentleman

Descole wheezed and coughed, trying to get the foul gas out of his lungs. His head pounded and his vision blurred, the world span around him. He pushed himself upright, shakily getting onto his feet. He still couldn't see properly, he didn't know where he was, but he could just make out what looked like Targent guards apprehending Luke, Flora and Layton, seemingly frozen in the act of pulling them in different directions. All of them were staring at him in horrified silence. Desole clenched his fists; he didn't have time to think about this strange scene, there was no time to take in these futuristic machines that, all he knew was that Targent had his… Colleagues, at their disposal, and he wasn't going to lose anything more to them!

Luke was closest, and in a flash Descole smashed one of his captors in the cheek with an elbow strike. The other guard instinctively stepped back, before receiving and strong punch in the nose. The room leapt into life as the other henchmen began to drag Flora and the professor away. The first one of Luke's guards lay unconscious on the ground and the other ran off. Descole risked a quick glance down at the boy to check he was alright… Luke was… Smiling at him? No, not smiling, smirking perhaps was a more appropriate word, it was a smirk that said he was ready for action, ready to save the day.

The light in the room turned red and a piercing alarm tore at the air. A large, metal door ahead of them opened and dozens of soldiers poured in. Descole grinned to himself and reached for his sword… Which wasn't there. Targent had taken it! Come to think of it, he didn't have his mask or hat either! No wonder he couldn't see anything! (the mask had lenses in the eye holes). He growled; no weapon, no sufficient eyesight, no hidden identity and an army to defeat. He glanced at the professor and Flora, both struggling in the henchmen's iron grip. It pained even Descole's stoney heart, but there was only one thing to be done.

Luke nearly had the wind knocked out of him as Descole flung him over his shoulder. He didn't understand, what was going on?

"LUKE!" Flora screamed, reaching out to him with a free arm. The guards knocked it away and pulled her towards another exit.

"FLORA!" Luke struggled, trying to escape the retreating man, but Descole's grip wouldn't loosen. "WHAT ARE YOU DOING?!" He screamed in Descole's ear, tears flowing from his eyes. "WE HAVE TO HELP THEM! WE CAN'T GO WITHOUT THEM!" But Descole's expression didn't alter. They reached a door that opened as he hit a button. Luke took one last look as his mentor and his friend struggled for their freedom, before the door slammed shut.

* * *

"NOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO!" Luke screamed as Descole ran through the corridors, receiving kicks and punches from the wailing child "NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO NO! WE HAVE TO GO BACK!" Descole stopped, there was no denying it, he had no idea where he was going, and with Luke acting like this, they'd be found in no time. He found a corner to hide in and set the boy down. "YOU MONSTER!" Luke cried, hitting the man non-stop. "WE HAVE TO GO BACK! WE HAVE TO- AHH!" Luke clutched his face where Descole had administered a sharp slap.

"Listen to me, young man!" He scolded. "If we'd stayed in that room a minute longer, we would have be caught! You should be grateful I managed to get you out! Now, do you-"

"B-but," Luke sniffed. "What about helping a lady in need! What about never leaving someone behind! A gentleman must never-" Again he was slapped.

"DO YOU THINK I-" Descole cut himself off for fear of being heard. "... Do you think I care what a gentleman can and can't do? Look, we can either stay here and get caught, or go, make a plan and come back when everything has calmed down. They'll be running around like headless chickens for a good few hours now, we can't stick around or they'll find us." He took a deep breath and sighed. His next words were a little calmer, friendly almost. "Luke, they're not going hurt them. If they wanted any of us dead, they would have shot us on the spot. Okay?"

"But…" Luke tried to argue. "... If it were the professor here-"

"Then it would be a different matter!" Descole snapped. "If it was the professor who had escaped, then it would be two of the world's most intelligent grown men rescuing two kids. But as things stand, I am half blind and don't know where I am, Layton could be anywhere, and you Luke, no matter how hard you try to escape it, are just a child!" He finished his rant and looked into Luke's still fuming face. The boy was not going to cooperate at this rate. He sighed. "What would the professor want? Forget the 'a gentleman must's and everything of that nature. If the professor could see you now, what would he want you to do?"

Of course Luke knew the answer to that question, the professor would want him to get out of there, do the rational thing. But how would Luke ever forgive himself? Even if this all ended happily ever after, how would he ever feel that he was worthy of becoming a true gentleman if he had run away when people needed him?

That was when the memory came, the memory of the night he discovered that being a gentleman wasn't all about being the hero and saving the girl. The night he'd learned what made a true gentleman…

* * *

It had been in the small window of time after Emmy left and before they met Flora. The professor didn't always get asked to solve mysteries, often people called him in to prove them innocent in court. In this tragic case he had received a desperate plea from a mother accused of abusing her 4 year old son, but the professor soon discovered that she was indeed guilty, and didn't try to prove otherwise. The woman was in hysterics at the end of the trial, threatening to kill herself and shouting abuse at the professor for convicting her rather than giving her the help she had sought. That night the professor just sat on to sofa in silence, not speaking or touching any food Luke offered. He wouldn't even down a single cup of tea. When it got quite late, Luke gave up on trying to make him feel better.

"I'm, urr, going to bed now." He said sheepishly, fiddling with his fingers. The professor looked up at him, then sighed.

"Yes, that sounds like a good idea…" They stayed silent for a minute, before he spoke again. "Luke, I'm sorry about the case today, it wasn't really appropriate for your age." Luke beamed and stood proudly.

"Don't worry professor! I'm your apprentice!" He assure him. "Whatever the case, I'll be there with you!" The professor smiled a smile with no joy in it, then sighed.

"Luke, I've told you many things about how a gentleman must behave: a gentleman must always put others before himself, a gentleman must always help a lady in need." He rubbed his forehead, the continued. "Well, today has reminded me that there will be times in your life where you can't apply those rules." He put a hand on Luke's shoulder and looked at him solemnly. "Promise me this Luke. If you're ever in doubt, you must remember the golden rule that trumps all else: a gentleman must always, always do what is right. Even if it causes pain to yourself, others around you or even your loved ones, A gentleman must always do what right." He looked into the boy's concerned eyes; there were many thing left for his young apprentice to learn, and this was one of the most important life lessons one could teach. "... Do you understand?"

"Yes, professor."

"Good." He stood up and stretched. "Now, I think some rest would do us both good. Goodnight Luke."

"... Goodnight…" Luke watched his mentor leave the room. S_o, that's what makes a gentleman_, he thought to himself, _being able to make the most painful of decisions, no matter what…_

* * *

"Luke." The boy snapped out of his daze. "Do you know the way out of here?" Luke stared at Descole, then looked wistfully down the corridor. Could he really leave them behind? He hated himself for it, but it felt like - he _knew _that it was the right thing to do...

_And a gentleman must always do what is right..._

He pulled his cap down over his eyes, wiping away the tears. "This way." He muttered, then, after checking no one was about, he scurried off down the hall.

Descole straightened up, and watched Luke for a moment as if there were no hurry. "Good man." He sighed in relief, more to himself than anything, then followed the boy through the labyrinth.

**I'm sorry :'( **

**This chapter may or may not have been inspired by episode 1 of Attack on Titan.**


	8. Chapter 7: Problems Tea Can't Solve

**SUMMER! Hope you're all enjoying it so far. Now, this chapter is mostly to jog everyone's memory of what has happened in this story as it got very confusing at times... Well, Enjoy!**

Chapter 7: Problems Not Even Tea Can Solve

It took a while for Luke and Descole to get out into the open again. There were many close calls, or rather, so close that they ended up running from a swarm of soldiers with guns. Luke swore that if Raymond's timing wasn't as spot on as it had been, he and Descole would be minced meat. Once safely inside, Luke ran to the window of the Bostonius and pressed his palms and forehead against the glass, watching the Targent headquarters disappear under layers of cloud. He barely heard the muffled conversation between Descole and Raymond, just watched his breath fog up the window, and let salty tears roll down his cheeks.

It was a clatter of china that finally tore Luke's eyes from the grey abyss. He turned to find that Raymond, who had evidently left the airship on some kind of autopilot, had made up a tray of tea and biscuits, which he had now placed on the coffee table between two dainty looking sofas. He smiled sympathetically. "I thought ya might need something to keep your strength up." He said, gently. "Help yourself." Then he went back to the controls. Luke wondered over and poured himself some tea, then huddled up on the sofa, slowly sipping at it and feeling rather sorry for himself. He felt useless, sitting there while Descole was making plans in his room as he, Luke, stuffed himself with biscuits (Luke would have liked to have been too worried to eat, but sadly, that just wasn't true). Once the tray was empty, he decided he had to find something to do, or he would go mad.

* * *

"Sorry, sir." Raymond said apologetically. "But I'm afraid I have no jobs you can do for me right now. However, you would do well to get some rest; I doubt you'll be getting much for a while." Luke sighed at the reply, and wandered back over to the sofa. He pulled off his bag and chucked it onto the table, ignoring it as the contents scattered everywhere. He flung himself on the sofa and stared at the ceiling; no tears left to cry, too young to help, too full of excitement to sleep. His eyes flittered about the room, trying to find something to take his mind off things, when they finally landed on the upset bag; it was very unusual for Luke to leave anything in such a state, in fact he was normally quite obsessive over tidiness, but what did manners matter now? The old, trustworth notebook and pen only lay inches away from his face, come to think of it, it had been a while since he'd updated their adventure.

Luke pushed himself upright and reached for the book. After a good half an hour or so of editing and scribbling, he had finally satisfied himself with a rough timeline of the events leading up to leaving Targent headquarters and updated his 'mystery file'.

* * *

Timeline

April 12: Ghost of Leon Bronev appears for first time in Walker's home

Inspector Chelmey vanishes

April 16: Professor L receives letter from Mayor of + news of Leon Bronev death + will

April 21: Professor L receives second from Mayor + letter from P Sycamore/Jean Descole

Professor L, Flora + Luke leave London for

Professor L, Flora + Luke meet Professor S/J Descole

Professor L, Flora, Luke + Professor S vist Mayor

Professor L, Flora, Luke + Professor S check in at Duke's Arms Hotel

Professor L + Luke vist + question Walkers

Professor S visits Walker's house followed by Flora

April 22: Professor L, Flora, Luke + Professor S visit Walker's house and encounter Leon Bronev's ghost

Bruno appears and gives Professor L a package

Professor L, Flora, Luke + Professor S return to Duke's Arms Hotel

Professor L goes to London the research Flora's parent's files. Luke and Flora question

Walker's further. Professor S questions Mayor

Professor L, Flora, Luke + Professor S meet up in car park and return to Walker's house.

Professor L, Flora, Luke + Professor S find entrance to underground chamber

Professor S becomes J Descole

Professor L, J Descole + Flora open door to Bronev treasure

Targent + Inspector C + Emmy A capture J Descole. Professor L, Flora + Luke are rescued by Raymond

April 23: Professor L, Flora + Luke enter Targent headquarters

Professor L + Flora are captured, Luke + J Descole escape with Raymond

Mystery File

The Bronev Treasure (solved): The mysterious 'treasure' mentioned in Bronev's will turned out to be a small room under his old home containing photographs and objects that were once important to himself, his wife and his sons. He built it in the hope that one day he would return with what remained of the family.

The Third Heir (solved): Although Bronev originally planned that he and his two sons, Professor Hershel Layton and Professor Desmond Sycamore, would open the door to the Bronev treasure, Flora Reinhold was able to take his place as his granddaughter, making her the Third Heir.

Downing's Disappearance (solved): James Downing, a well known mathematician that lives in , went missing. He was taken by Targent not only to give the 'uniformed men' an excuse to be in as undercover policemen, but also became part of the mysterious project 'The Hall of Dreams'.

Bronev's Ghost (solved): The ghost of Leon Bronev was a trick devised by Targent, aiming to both drive the residents away and to attract the heirs to the Bronev treasure. They did this by selling paint laced with hallucination gas to the Walker's, current owners of Bronev's old home, along with a phone that made ghostly noises at night, creating the effect of the ghost.

Uniformed Men (solved): The mysterious uniformed men that were patrolling were really Targent members. They used a D.I.Y shop (the same one that sold the paint and phone to the Walker's) as their base.

Bruno's Package (solved): The old package Bruno gave to the professor contained Baron Augustus Reinhold's diary, which he wished for his daughter, Flora, to read after his death. The diary contained information that lead to the discovery that Desmond Sycamore is Flora's real father, therefore making her the Third Heir to the Bronev treasure.

Chelmey's Disappearance (unsolved): On the same day the Bronev's ghost appeared, Inspector Chelmey was reported missing. He reappeared later as a Targent officer, but what are his motives? Why did he disappear for ten days?

The Hall of Dreams (unsolved): In the Targent headquarters, there in a strange room where scientists and well known geniuses are keep strapped into strange machines where they stay unconscious. What is the purpose of this place? What is Targent up to now?

* * *

No sooner had he finished writing, Sycamore (now back in a suit and tie) emerged from his room. He saw Luke and sat down on the sofa opposite him, obviously eager to discuss something with him. "Look, Luke" he started nervously, both hands on his lap. "Back in the headquarters, I'm sorry about Layton and the girl, there was just no time to help them." Luke nodded slowly, fighting back more tears; he didn't want this conversation right now, or ever. Sycamore sensed his distress and gave a weak smile. "However, it will all be behind us soon, as I have been making plans on how to break them out-"

Luke snorted "It was trying to break people out that got them caught in the first place." Sycamore was not fazed by this response, he knew how the boy must be feeling, he himself had gone through the same when his parents were kidnapped.

"... I believe you know what they'll do with Layton."

"Don't." Luke shivered, not looking Sycamore in the eye.

"Yes, well, the least I can do is assure you that it's not an unpleasant ordeal, and no real harm will come to him." It was only now that Luke remembered that Sycamore had been a victim of one of these machines himself, and that he had first hand experience of what the 'Hall of Dreams' did.

"What… What was it like?" Luke asked timidly. "When you were… You know…" Sycamore frowned, as if trying to remember.

"It's all rather hazy now." He said, rubbing his forehead. "But… It was like, yes, it was like having a really long dream, not a bad one at that." He sighed. "It felt so real at the time, but looking back… Well, that's just the way dreams are I guess."

"What was the dream?" Luke asked, eager for any clues as to what the machines did. Sycamore laughed.

"I'm afraid that it was nothing of much interest." He replied. "I believe that I was fixing something, although I can't remember what it was. I kept coming across problems, but" he gave a mischievous smile. "I always overcame them." When Luke didn't reply to this, obviously disappointed by the dead end, Sycamore gave a small cough. "Anyway, back to the plan. In order of rescue Layton and Flora, we need to know their exact whereabouts. Now, we know Layton will be… In the Hall… However, I don't know about Flora. Did anyone say where she would be taken?"

"No…" Luke sounded distant. "They were going to put me in a cell, but Flora… Chelmey just said "you know what to do"... What does that mean?"

"I'm not sure." Sycamore replied, looking genuinely concerned. "If not the cells, where would she be needed?" He paused, thinking hard. "Of course, they know she's an heir of Bronev, but that means nothing now…" He looked up at Luke "You know her better than me, what could Targent possibly gain from her?"

"Umm." Luke had no idea where to start. "Well… She's good at maths, but not good enough that they'd…"

"Hmm…" Sycamore stood and began to pace. "But intelligent minds isn't all an organisation that big needs… Is there anything else? Bearing in mind that Targant need things like catering, recruitment, leadership, funding-"

"Funding…" For some reason, that word had struck a horrible chord within Luke, making his stomach drop. He searched his memory, trying to find the source of this spine-chilling feeling, when it hit him. "... Oh no." He breathed, then looked up at Sycamore. "We need to get to , now!"

**Hope that made sense, see you all next time!**


	9. Chapter 8: The Rotten Apple

**Hey! So, several things to say. One, sorry I didn't update earlier, I've been on a two week hoilday. Two I FINALLY got round to playing Mystery Room and it was EPIC! So now the part of Professor Layton I couldn't be a part of has opened to me! (I wanted to wait until I'd finished this series to play it, so that I didn't feel like I had to change the storyline to make it work with Mystery Room, but now I want to (don't worry, it won't effect this story)) Lastly, it was recently ONE YEAR since I posted my first ever fanfic, so I'll be posting a late celebratory oneshot soon. Anyway, enough said, enjoy!**

**Disclamer! No I don't own Professor Layton, just the plot. Also some readers may find parts of this chapter disturbing (You probably won't, I just don't want anyone to get annoyed at me)**

Chapter 8: The Rotten Apple

She didn't want to cry. It surprised even Flora herself. It wasn't that she was too scared to cry, nor that she didn't want to look weak in front of her captors, or even that she felt she ought not to cry, she just couldn't cry. She had cried a lot in the last few hours, and it felt as if she had run out of the self pity needed to cry. It hadn't been replaced either, she wasn't angry, or very frightened, she just felt tired and, for the first time in as long as she could remember, wanted to be alone.

However, it seemed that Targent would not allow her even that simple pleasure. Once dragged from the Hall of Dreams, away from Luke and the professor, she had expected to be thrown in a cell and left there, out of the way as always. Instead, she found herself in an aircraft hangar full of Chinook helicopters, and was forced into one by two large and burly henchmen, accompanied by an old, scrawny old man who turned out to be the pilot and a tall, middle aged woman with short blonde hair. Most of the guards Flora had seen had scars of some description, but this woman topped the lot; she had bulging, red scratches covering her face, and one eye was hidden under a patch. Her hands were chapped and her nails were chipped and stained with nicotine. She was obviously the leader among them, as she was the only one to talk throughout the journey, giving the pilot orders or talking over a radio in a wispy, cracked voice, through which she was often addressed as 'Captain Johnson'. Everyone else sat in silence. Flora wanted to know what was happening, where she was going or just to look out of the small, grimy window. She pleaded for answers, but the guards refused to acknowledge her existence. She was now sick with worry, for herself, for the professor, and most of all for Luke. Had he and Descole managed to escape? Or had they been caught? _Don't be daft, _she told herself. _This is Luke we're talking about, of course they got away. _She allowed herself a small smile; at least her best friend was safe.

Not long afterwards, Captain Johnson started making more radio calls and giving more hushed instructions. Flora couldn't hear much of it, but it seemed as if they were coming into land. Flora didn't dare move, but she desperately wanted to know what was going on. Soon, the woman came back, looking triumphantly out of the window. Flora just couldn't bear it any longer. "Where are we?" She blurted out. Johnson, finally, turned to face her and grinned crookedly, revealing a gold tooth among her real blackened ones. Her answer was perhaps even worse than the silence.

"To you, home." She said, wickedly. "To uz', A gold mine."

Flora was just opening her mouth to question further, when there was a slight bump, and the whirring of propellers began to die down. Johnson flung the door open, picked up a rifle and, to her horror, pointed it at Flora. "Now lis'en up, 'cause I'm only gonna say this once." She hissed. "We know 'ho you are and what your entitled to, so when we step out of 'ere, your gonna lead uz' to it." Flora was so bewildered that she had no idea what this woman was talking about. "So, this is what we're gonna do; no one's gonna touch you, your free to go where you want, provided that you do as we say. We're gonna do this quickly, all you 'ave te' do is lead us to what we want, then maybe we'll turn a blind eye if you wanna do a runner." She waved the rifle about in a drunken manner. "If you try anything funny, well, my 'ands are not as steady as they once were, so if you make me mad, my finger might just slip. 'Ho knows where the bullet could end up." This sent a dreadful chill down Flora's spine, but she saw no choice other than to oblige. Shakily, she stood up and stepped out of the helicopter.

The bright, outdoor light blinded her and the gentle breeze brushed her cheeks. She quickly glanced around her; there were two other helicopters, from which more armed guards were emerging and arranging themselves into some sort of formation, of which Flora was directed to the front of by Captain Johnson. Once her eyes had become accustomed to the light, she realised where she was. Of course, this was St Mystere, how had she not been able to tell straight away? Villagers that she had known as a child were already gathering at the scene, chattering madly.

"Who are these people?"

"Are they holding...? Oh my goodness!"

"Is that Flora? What are they doing with her!?"

Suddenly, seeing all the distressed faces of the people she'd grown up with, all Johnson had said suddenly clicked into place.

"NO!" She turned to Johnson. "You can't take my Papa's fortune! You just can't!" Johnson's horrid grin crept back onto her face.

"Well, we ain't gonna take it, are we?" She cackled. "You're gonna give it to uz'." Flora froze; they wouldn't, they couldn't! Could they? St Mystere was so remote, without policing or protection against this kind of threat. The villagers seemed to have got the idea of what was happening now, and more desperate shouts rang out.

"Don't do it, Flora!"

"Someone get Bruno! Someone get Bruno!"

"So that's what this is all about, eh?"

Infuriated by the commotion, Johnson grabbed a megaphone from a nearby guard and shouted into it, almost deafening Flora.

"Alrighty then!" She shrieked. "This is how it gonna work: We gonna do our business without interruption, ok? Anyone who interferes, will be shot on sight!" This was answered with more shouts, gasps and screams. Flora couldn't bear it, because of her, all these people were in danger…

Then again, these weren't your average civilians. She glanced at the pointed rifles, cogs ticking in her head; did Targent even know that these people were robots? Did they know that being shot probably couldn't be fatal to them? Her heart began to pick up pace at this realisation, supposing she lead them on a wild goose case while someone contacted the police from another area? That way, if they realised what she had done and tried to kill someone, Bruno could fix them…

"HEY!" Flora jumped when she heard the shout. It was Bruno, pushing through the crowd. He stamped over to Johnson and glared up at her threateningly (despite being a head shorter than her). "LOOK HERE!" he spat. "This is completely out of order! I will not have it! I've seen your type before, think you can solve this puzzle just 'cause you've got an army behind you. Well, take this, sunshine, the Golden Apple is no longer h-" He stopped dead in his rant when he saw Flora. "... M-Miss Flora? What are you-"

Johnson began to snort with laughter. "Very funny, little man." She said, her voice scratchy. "Now, if you'll please step aside-"

"I have no intention of doing so!" Bruno barked. "That fortune belongs to Miss Flora and her only! I'd rather die than let you take it!" There was a pause in the din as he said this, obviously unaware of the lengths Targent would go to.

"... That works fine for me." Johnson replied, coolly. She nodded to a group of guards, who instantly began to close in on Bruno.

"What are you doing!?" Bruno cried as he was pushed to the ground. "No... No, you can't!"

"Shut your trap, you old sod."

"NO! STOP!" Flora fought against the shield of henchmen that had formed around Bruno, but to no avail. Johnson grabbed her shoulder and pulled her back.

"You don't wanna watch this, kid. He asked for it."

"NOOOOO!" Flora began to hit and scratch at her. They couldn't kill Bruno! Who would fix the villagers? Who would care for St Mystere? Bruno was the only flesh and blood citizen, if they killed him-

WHAM!

Flora was knocked over sideways as something smashed into her cheek. She looked up to see Johnson was holding her rifle the wrong way around, wearing an expression of terrifying fury as she glared down at Flora. It took Flora a couple of moments to realise that she had been hit round the face with the butt of Johnson's gun. She had just got halfway to standing when, it happened.

The gunshot. The screams. One strangled, painful cry that abruptly stopped. Flora fell back down, her mind a blur. What had she done?

Johnson grabbed her arm and yanked her to her feet. "I warned ya!" She shout above the noise. "Now let's get this over with, before someone else gets 'urt." Flora didn't resist. She tried to find Bruno in the rush of bodies, but civilians had already huddled around him, blocking him from sight. "Come on!" Johnson shouted back at her comrades. "We've already caused more fuss than we should 'ave." She turned on Flora, eyes full of fire. "That means you get a move on, you little brat." Flora was stunned; without Bruno, no one could care for the villagers. They would break down, rust to bits, and only Bruno had known how they worked. Without him, St Mystere would die with or without the fortune. Half dazed, she tried to think of a different solution, but found none. Slowly, she turned and began to walk towards the manor; she would rather see St. Mystere come to an end the way her father had planned, rather than it run down slowly.

* * *

Flora hardly registered the journey to the manor. The Targent squad marched behind her as Johnson gave her 'reassuring' prods in the back with her rifle every time she slowed down. Johnson kept making snide remarks about how grimy the place was, and complained loudly at the inconvenience of having to cross a river (Ramon seriously misjudged the whole situation, and found himself thrown into the water when he presented Targent with his favourite Wolf and Chick puzzle). Once across, a henchmen, a younger man with dark, scruffy hair who turned out to be a Sargent, hammered on the front door of the Reinhold manor. When there was no answer, he started kicking it.

"Alright! Alright! I'm coming!" Came a familiar voice behind the door, accompanied with the sound of a key turning in a lock. "Honestly! There was no need- Eek!" Matthew the butler's small, round face turn ghostly white as he poked it around the door. Johnson, who must have taken pleasure in making this impression on people, held out her rifle and gently rested the barrel between Matthew's eyes. She leaned closer to him and, grinning madly, whispered a single word.

"...Out."

He didn't need to be told twice. The moment the rifle was lowered, Matthew flung the door open and ran out into the front garden as fast as his little legs would carry him. Cruel laughter followed him from the guards, but they quickly stopped and stood to attention when Johnson gave them a mouth-full for not concentrating on the task at hand. They marched through onto the small reception area. Flora was overcome by nostalgia by this point, the house hadn't changed a bit in the time she'd been gone, it was every bit a beautiful and humble as the day she had left.

"What's going on down there?" Cried a dainty and worried voice from the top of the stairs. "Matthew! Who is it?" The patter of small feet was heard on the steps above, and down came Lady Dahlia, shawl and all, cradling a large, white cat by the name of Claudia in her arms. She was closely followed by Ingrid, and they both froze with horror when confronted by the Targent squad. Johnson, who seemed to be getting really tired of the interruptions by this point, didn't even bother to raise her weapon at them.

"OUT!" She screamed, making even the other guards jump. "Outside, now!" They scurried down the rest of the steps and towards the door. Dahlia stopped for just a moment, giving Flora a desperate and sorry look. "I said OUT!" Dahlia jumped back into life and fled the building, leaving Flora alone with _them. _Johnson sighed, and pinched the bridge of her nose. "I'm losing my patience, kid. Let's get this finished." Flora glanced up at her, then at the portrait of herself, hanging just a few meters away, the only thing left between Targent and her father's fortune. She was so much younger in that painting, and not just in years, she had learned so much since. She didn't want the fortune behind that last puzzle, but she didn't what it in the hands of people like Targent either; just imagine the things they could do with that money. Flora's heart began to flutter; they could do worse things than this, they could do worse things than destroy her childhood home. She loved her village, she loved the people in it, real or not, but it was never going to last forever, things like that never do. She looked into the chubbier, smaller version of herself, and felt herself fill with courage that she hadn't had before; she was going to do what the girl in that painting wouldn't have been able to do.

"... No…"

"No?" Johnson repeated, disbelievingly. "No what?" Flora turned on her, her face going scarlet.

"No, I won't give you Papa's money!" Johnson was taken aback, but recovered herself quickly, almost steaming with anger.

"I could go and shoot-"

"I don't care!" Flora shouted. "You don't deserve that fortune, and I won't let you have it!" The silence that followed chilled the very air around them. Johnson had her free hand clenched into a fist, and veins where popping out all over her visible skin. It felt like forever when she finally took a deep breath, and passed a hand over her eye.

"Sargent." She said calmly. "Take that portrait of the girl off the wall." The Sargent nodded and went to attempt the order. Flora watched him in fascinated horror.

"W-what?" She said, faintly. "But how did you-"

"I'm not an idiot, kid." Johnson replied, flatly. "We all saw you staring at it. Sarge, what's takin' so long?"

"It-won't-budge!" The Sargent groaned through gritted teeth as he tried to pull the frame from it's place.

"So?" Johnson said wearily.

"Well, Captain." He panted. "I can't shift it."

"USE YOUR IMAGINATION!" The Sargent nearly jumped out of his skin as Johnson finally flipped. "WRENCH IT OFF! BLOW IT UP! I REALLY DON'T CARE ANYMORE!" All henchmen scrambled to find something to rip the painting off the wall with. Soon, someone found and ornamental sword, which several guards then wedged in between the wall and the painting frame. After much pushing, pulling and complaining, something in the painting's mechanism broke, and the the frame burst open like a door. Laughing with relief, Johnson approached the doorway and looked down into the gloom; at the end of a small stair case, came a golden glow. Still sniggering, she grabbed Flora's arm and pulled her in front of the opening. "Ladies first." She prompted, pushing Flora forwards. "An' if you find any traps, let uz' know." Trembling, Flora started down the steps, closely followed by the squad.

It was every bit dazzling and breath taking as she remembered it. Bars of pure gold piled up to the ceiling, and glittering coins littered the floor. Gems and rubies were strewn about by the bucketful. It didn't take an expert to realise that the contents of this room were worth millions. Johnson sank to her knees and ran her fingers through the pool of precious metal, laughing maniacally. She stood up and looked over the room, tears pooling in her eye.

"_Flora... My little Flora... Flora, you've made it here at last." _Everyone froze as the voice rang out through the room. "_My dear Flora, has the village watched over you as I would have?"_ Flora knew that voice all too well, it was her own Papa.

"It was a trap." The Sargent breathed. "S-someone's here!" Johnson, not even bothering to look at him, grabbed his hair and yanked it downwards, so that he was forced to look up into the corner between two walls and the ceiling, where there was a speaker.

"_I built St Mystere so that you would never have to know true loneliness. Well, to be fair, Bruno did the actual building, but that's beside the point."_ Johnson let go of the Sargent's curls and smacked him around the back of the head.

"Stupid boy." She muttered, shaking her head. "Right, all soldiers, start bagging this lot up. You." She pointed at Flora. "Stay quiet and sit still 'til we're finished, then you can go."

"_Anyway, if you've come this far, I suppose it's safe to assume my plan was a success." _The late Baron said triumphantly as the henchmen produced large sacks and began to shovel the room's contents into them. Johnson sent someone to guard the entrance, then just sat back and watched the process, grinning like a mad man and shoving the occasional item in her pocket. Flora, unsure of what to do, huddled in a corner and listened to her father's last message.

"_My greatest regret is that I'm not there to see you become a young woman." _This alone was enough to make her well up; young woman indeed, how much maturity had she shown today?

"_Please know that I want nothing more than for you to be happy. Whether that person by your side right now can give you that or not is up to you, I suppose." _Targent? Make her happy? Impossible.

"_And too you who have found your way to my daughter's side, you have my heartiest congratulations." _He wouldn't be saying that if he was here, he'd be beyond furious at what they had done.

"_Few could make it through the barricade of puzzles I set before you. I imagine a person of your abilities has already caught on, but allow me to reveal St Mystere's secret."_

"Hey! Captain!" The man guarding the entrance ran down the steps in a panic. "Something really weird just happened!" Everyone stopped what they were doing and stared at him. "It's the citizens, Ma'am, they're all dead!"

"_Recently, I was told by my physician that I don't have much time left on this earth."_

"What?" Johnson roared. "What d'ya mean they're all dead?"

"Just that, Ma'am." The guard replied. "I was at the front door, and they were all there, shouting and trying to get in. I threatened to shoot them and all when suddenly they just all… Stopped, and fell over. I went round and checked their pulses and breathing, but they were already cold!"

"_I can come to terms with dying, but the thought of leaving my only child alone in the world torments me. This is why I've commissioned Bruno to construct St Mystere. At least this way, she'll be safe and protected until she's old enough to venture into the outside world."_

Johnson seemed pretty shell shocked by the news. After a moment's hesitation, she shook herself back into reality and snapped out orders. "Well? Carry on with what you're doing! You two! Come with me, and we'll check this out." Then she disappeared up the stairs with the guard and two other henchmen. The others gave each other questioning looks, then carried on collecting up the gold.

"_Streets and buildings are the bones of this village, but it's heart is the people who live in it. This is why I asked Bruno to create all the villagers, as well as all the puzzles hidden within them. I've asked Matthew to make the news of my death public only once Flora has grown past childhood. So, stranger, how does my beautiful little flower look now? I imagine she's blossoming into adulthood." _Hearing her father's words just made the guilt worse and worse. She didn't think of herself as an adult when the professor had adopted her, and she still didn't now.

"_Equally important to me is finding someone I can entrust both my daughter and my fortune. This is way the inhabitants of St Mystere are constantly testing the knowledge of the visitor. If you've made it this far, it must mean you possess both wisdom and dedication to my daughter." _Wrong again, Targent hadn't even tried to solve the puzzle of St Mystere, they just went straight for brute force.

"_I am confident that you will take good care of my fortune and Flora. This is way everything in this room, the whole of my fortune, belongs to you now." _No, Targent could take the fortune, but it would never belong to them.

"_When you remove it from here, St Mystere will complete the objective for which it was created. I imagine that the inhabitants will fall into a deep sleep from which they are never to awaken."_

"He's right." Johnson called as she hurried down the stairs. "I dunno how, but they all seemed to have simultaneously popped their clogs! Sarge, are you finished down here?"

"Yes Captain." Flora looked up; in what seemed like no time at all, the gold and jewels had vanished, and had been replaced by a pile of bulging sacks.

"Good, get it all to the Chinooks then, we need to get out of her as soon as possible." Flora watched as the henchmen emptied the room sack by sack until nothing remained, leaving the room bear and grey, with nothing and no one in it but Flora, shivering and alone. No one came back for her.

"_I leave it to you, brave traveller. Draw the curtain on St Mystere and lay this lifeless village to rest. Above all else, take care of my precious daughter. She's in your hands now." _The speaker cracked as the message finished. Flora began to sob, her refusal to cry forgotten.

"Oh, Papa." Flora whimpered. "I've let you down."

**I'm sorry :'(**


	10. Chapter 9: The Curious Villagers

**WELL LOOK WHO'S BACK?!**

**Actually****, you probably have no idea, as I haven't posted in ages and chances are you haven't read my stuff (but if you have, hi! Thanks for coming back after I abandoned you for so long :') ). Now I know I've promised this to be a series and I'll probably never get round to finishing it but DARN IT I AM NOT GOING DOWN WITH OUT A FIGHT! So here it is! Enjoy this long awaited and probably-not-worth-the-wait chapter!**

Chapter 9: The Curious Villagers

"Brace yourselves for landing!" Sycamore cried almost merrily from the controls of the Bostonius. The moment Luke had realised Targent was after Flora's money, the three had made a beeline or St Mystere.

"M-Mr Sycamore!" Luke stammered, clutching a sofa arm in one hand and his hat in the other, as if he were on a ship caught in a storm. "W-when was the last time you flew this thing!?"

"Umm, a few years, I guess." The older man shouted back, adrenaline coursing through him as he swerved around another cloud. "Why'd you ask?"

"I think you might be a little out of pratic- WAAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!" The flight since Sycamore had taken over piloting had been a rough one, reminding Luke much of Emmy's driving. However, the final descent into St Mystere had felt more like an utter nose dive than a graceful landing. Luke's ears filed with pressure as he hung onto the sofa for dear life. He could barely hear his screams above the howl of the wind outside the airship as it went plummeting towards the ground. Somehow, Sycamore managed to pull the Bostonius's nose up at the last minute, replacing the howl with a defining screech as the metal of the plane met a hard surface. After a few moments, the airship finally skidded to a halt. Sycamore gave a quick sigh of relief, wiping his sleeve across his forehead. He fiddled with a few controls, then turned to his two rather shaken up companions.

"Well, we're here!" He announced excitedly.

"Huh?" Luke dared to open his eyes, then stood shakily. "You mean… We're alive?"

"Oh, ha ha, very funny." Sycamore said sarcastically, pulling on his jacket and buttoning it up. "Come on then, we need to find out if we've beaten Targent or not. Raymond, are you coming with us?"

"With all due respect, master." The butler replied reproachfully, holding onto the wall to keep his balance. "I think I ought te' stay here and… Assess the damage."

Sycamore frowned. "Oh, come on! I can't have been that bad at flying, I built the Bostonius after all!" Raymond didn't respond to this, quickly turning to go and find the repair kit. Sycamore scowled after him. "Let's just go." He muttered through gritted teeth, grabbing Luke (who was seeing two Sycamore's) by the jumper and marched out of the airship.

It felt dead, that was the only way Luke could describe it. The streets were empty, silent, not a figure in sight. Luke remembered coming here just a few years ago, and it was quiet at the best of times, with just a few of the strange villagers milling about every area. Now there was no one, nothing. The place felt abandoned.

They found nothing of any interest until they reached the junction just in front of the clock tower. There, lying suspiciously on the brick road, were dozens of muddy foot prints. Sycamore got about examining them at once, Luke close behind him.

"One thing's for certain." The man said gravely. "We're too late." Luke took a deep breath, and raised a hand to his head, trying to hold back tears. _I shouldn't have mopped about feeling sorry for myself, I should have realised sooner… _

Seeing the grief on his face, Sycamore stood and patted the boy's shoulder. "Could you do me a favour, Luke?" He asked, pointing to a bit of road where all the footprints abruptly stopped. "See if you can work out what happened there, hm?" Luke nodded, rubbing the weariness out of his eyes. He trudged over to the spot Sycamore had pointed out, watching the marks left by whoever had been here as he passed them. He wasn't sure what to look for; there were so many tracks, at least 10 people's worth. They went back and forth, as if the intruders had gone from point A to point B and back to A again. He reached the place where the footprints stopped. It was strange, some tracks, when they reached this point, made a sharp turn back the way they came, others just vanished all together. Luke looked hard at them for a moment, turning the facts over in his head, when the solution came to him.

"I think they came and left through the air, like us." In the deathly quiet of the village, Luke barely had to mutter this for Sycamore to hear, even from this distance. Sycamore looked up at him, and smiled.

"My thoughts exactly." He called back. He lifted his hand, rubbing some dirt from the ground in between his index finger and thumb. "Have you noticed that the footprints leading to where you are seem muddier than the ones leading away?" Luke looked down at the road, and saw that Sycamore was right. "I think." He continued. "That the people who came here landed near you, went somewhere with _clean _boots, came back with _dirty _boots. They must have been near water. They then repeated that path several times." He stood, looking at Luke gravely. "... As if they were moving a vast amount of… Something." Luke shuddered, the fortune was gone then, this had been a waste of time. Sycamore sighed. "We ought to check this place before we leave, find the villagers and make sure they're ok." Luke, nodded, on the way over, he had told Sycamore that St Mystere's residents were robots, so Sycamore knew that they could have potentially shut down, forever. "You know this place better than I, Luke, where do you think they went?" Luke looked up from his feet; if the Targent soldiers had been near water and had the fortune, there was only one place they could have gone, the Manor. Luke said this, and Sycamore agreed it was the only possibility. "Right, let's get going then." He turned and began to follow the footprints. Luke was about to follow when he stood on something. It had felt like a pebble, but when he picked it up, he found that it was a bronze coloured tube, about the size of his thumb. It was sealed at one end and smelled of fire. Something glistened in the corner of his eye, and when he saw what it was, he was struck dumb by fear, _how did I not see that before?_

"Uh… Mr Sycamore!" Luke shouted. Sycamore came jogging over at once with a questioning look on this face, but he too stopped when he saw the pool of blood. He knelt beside it, a look of deep worry on his face.

"Not good." He muttered. "That's a lot of blood."

"Enough… T-to kill someone?" Luke stammered, horrified.

"Perhaps…" Sycamore looked up at him, and saw the tube in his hands. He rose to his feet and took the object from Luke, giving it a quick examination. "A bullet cartridge, I'd know one anywhere." He said flatly. "And it's been used." The boy shook at the words. He could see it now, Flora, lying still and pale on the ground, blood gushing out of a hole in her chest, her eyes closing as her breath left her… Could even Targent do that? Kill someone, a young woman, the moment she'd outlived her purpose? Luke's breathing became quick and panicked,_ if they have so much a harmed a hair on her head, I won't be held responsible for what I do to them. If they've killed her, I'll… I'll… _Luke clutched his head and groaned; where had those thoughts come from? That wasn't him, that had sounded like some monster, some villainous fiend…

He had sounded like Descole… Was that how he had come to be? Because Sycamore listened to those voices when he lost his family… Or rather, when they left him…

Sycamore shook Luke by the shoulder. "Are you alright?" He asked, worriedly. Luke just stared at him for a moment, then shook himself.

"L-let's just get to the Manor." He stammered, then darted off in the direction the footprints came from, Sycamore close behind him.

They reached the river blocking their path to the Manor. Sure enough, deep footprints were marked on the bank. Across the water, they could see the great building, but covering the grounds around it, were what looked like dozens of collapsed people. Even from this distance, Luke recognised them as the villagers. They found the boat that Ramon usually used to take people across the river, and boarded it. Once on the other side, they cautiously moved among the 'bodies' towards the Manor.

Suddenly, Sycamore stopped, and held an arm out in front of Luke, forcing him to stop too. The man raised a finger to his lips, and pointed to his ear, indicating for him to listen. Luke did so… There was a faint sobbing coming from somewhere nearby. Luke scanned the area for the source of the crying, and there, clutching the lifeless figure of the old lady Ingrid, was Flora, shivering as she sobbed, but alive. Luke could not contain his relief. "Flora!" He cried, bounding over the robots to reach her. Flora looked up as she heard her friend's voice, giving a gasp as she saw him. She rose to her feet and scampered towards him, holding him in a tight embrace when they reach each other. Luke hugged her back as she hiccupped sobs and laughter all at once. "It's ok." Luke reassured her. "We've found you now."

"Oh, Luke!" Flora whimpered. "They took it! Every last penny! The villagers have shut down, and Bruno…" Her breath caught as she told the awful truth. "Th-they shot him! Bruno is…" Luke hushed her comfortingly; _so, that's where the blood came from, _he thought, grimly. _The old caretaker has been shot, and killed by the sound of it. _In the most grown up manner a 12-year-old could manage, Luke pulled away from his friend and took her hand.

"Come on." He said, solemnly. "There's nothing else we can do here." He turned, ready to lead Flora way from the horrid scene, when he saw professor Sycamore. He had been silent the whole time, but Luke now saw that he was perfectly still, apart from his twitching hands. His breathing was shallow, and his face was pale and rather green. His eyes were fixed on a point on the ground, filled with shock and terror. Puzzled, Luke followed the man's gaze onto the limp body of Lady Dahlia. _Of course, _Luke remembered, _Dahlia was made to look exactly like Sycamore's dead wife. _

Luke cleared his throat. "Umm, Mr Sycamore?" He said gently. Sycamore did not respond, so Luke tried again. "Mr Sycamore, she's a robot." The man looked at him now, confused and shaking. Luke continued. "The Baron built her, after Lady Viola- Layla, died." He let this sink in for a moment, as the man stared at him, then back at the robot. He scowled, balling his fists.

"That… That's just sick." He spat, fiercely. "That's no way to respect the dead…" Luke stayed silent; Sycamore wasn't really in a position to judge what was and what wasn't inappropriate behaviour.

Flora, however, had a very different reaction. "Don't you _dare_ talk about my Papa like that!" She shouted, more tears falling down her cheeks. "At least he knew how to respect my mother while she was alive!" The two stared at each other in silence for some time. Luke noticed how their usual demeanours were reversed; Sycamore was shaken and confused, while Flora trembled with anguish, a look of deep hatred set in her face. It was in this moment, in which their roles were switched, that Luke could truly appreciate for the first time that they were father and daughter.

Sycamore relaxed, and whirled around suddenly. "Let's go." He said sullenly.

"But, the villagers…" Luke stammered.

"What of them?" The man snapped shortly, has he trod back to the river. Luke sighed.

"Come on." Luke coxed at Flora, but she crossed her arms stubbornly.

"I'm not going anywhere with him." She spat.

"Please!" Luke begged. "We need help the Professor, and Sycamore's our only chance!" Flora shook, then let her arms fall, bowing her head.

"…Ok." She said meekly. She looked back briefly at the fallen villagers, then followed Luke towards the river.

They returned to the Bostonius, silent all the way. When they clambered inside, they found Raymond packing up a first aid kit, and sat on the sofa next to him…

"Bruno!" Flora cried. She rushed over to the old caretaker, and threw her arms around him.

"Oof! Steady on there!" He laughed, patting Flora awkwardly on the back. The girl laughed and cried in his arms.

"Oh, Bruno!" She sobbed. "I- I thought you were dead!" Bruno smiled sadly.

"Well, I guess that's exactly what they wanted you to think." He muttered. "Wanted to give you a fright, that's all. They just didn't have the stomach to finish me off." He tapped his arm, which was heavily bandaged in blooded linen. "Beatrice took me inside and tried to fix me up best she could… Before she shut down. Blimey, here I am complaining about my lot, are you alright miss? Did they hurt you?" He scowled at Flora's red, swollen cheek. "… That old witch, I'll give her what for!" He tried to stand up, but was instantly pushed back down by Raymond.

"I strongly advise against that fir the time bein'." Her turned to Sycamore. "Master, this man has lost a lot of blood, any more an' he'll go into shock. We must depart fir a hospital immediately." Sycamore nodded, and the two started up the engine.

They reached a hospital, and Bruno was safely delivered into the hands of some doctors. Flora stood by his bed, covered in crisp white sheets.

"Oh, Bruno…" She sighed. "I'm so, so sorry you got caught up in this." Bruno smiled weakly back at her.

"Not your fault miss." He croaked. Flora shook her head.

"But… The villagers… I know how much they meant to you." The old man took her hand.

"Now, listen you." He scolded. "All these years, I knew them bots would shut down someday, I've been used to that for a long time." He looked upwards. "You know, I used to think, when this was all over, the village that is, that I'd go off and make a life for myself." He smiled sadly. "But… I guess I just don't fit this world, do I? No. When I'm standing again, I'll go back to St. Mystere, and see what I can do for the villagers." Flora gasped.

"You… You can save them?"

"I don't know." He replied honestly. "They were built with the intention of self-destructing, but I can always try." Flora smiled gratefully.

"I'll help you." She promised. "I'll stay over and help you fix them!"

"I'd like that." Bruno chuckled. His gaze fell upon Luke, who was sat on an uncomfortable chair in the corner. "Hey, boy."

"Hmm?"

"I've got a job for you." Luke listened to him. "Look after Flora, don't let anyone hurt her." Luke nodded happily, but Flora frowned.

"You too?" She grumbled. "Honestly! I can look after myself, you know!"

"Be that as it may." Bruno laughed. "I still look at you and think of the five-year-old girl who fell into a gorse bush trying to pick me flowers." Flora blushed. "I just want someone looking out for you, is that ok?" She nodded. "Good. Now go save the world, or whatever it is you kids do these days." Flora chuckled, and kissed his forehead.

"I'll be back soon." She promised, as Bruno shooed them out of the room.

Luke and Flora left hospital, and found Raymond waiting for them in the carpark with a small, green car. He drove them back to the Bostonius, which had been left near a noisy building site. "I hope you don't mind entertaining yaselves for some time." Raymond apologised as they boarded the airship. "The master is in his study, planning your Professor's rescue. He'll call ya when he is done." Flora raised an eyebrow.

"_He _wants to help the Professor?" She asked snidely.

"Aye." Was all he replied, before returning to the controls. Luke tugged at Flora's sleeve.

"Maybe we should get some sleep." He yawned. "Goodness knows what's going to happen next..." So the two retreated to separate bedrooms, but Flora found that she couldn't keep her eye shut. All that had happened in the past few hours was flashing before her eyes in the dark, lonely room. She felt cold, perhaps she should go and find Luke? The Bostonius gave a jolt, and out of the corner of her eye, she watched something jump off the chest of drawers. She rose from the bed and picked it up, discovering that is was the diary the Professor had given her, moments before all this chaos had begun. The diary her Papa had kept. He had wanted her to read this, but wouldn't that be invasive? Then again, this was the last chance she had at hearing, or rather reading, her fathers words. With that thought in mind, she sat on the bed and opened the ragged book at the first bookmark, wedged between the crumbling pages.

_"__Oh, what a glorious day! Sweet summer is upon us, but a meeting today made me shine brighter than the newly born sun. While walking with Archibald early this morning, we pass a small local grocery shop. Archibald recalls that he is short of eggs and milk, so we enter. This is no ordinary stop, however, as we are served by the most beautiful woman I have ever had the pleasure of laying eyes on. She is tall and distinguished, and smiles like a goddess. Archibald notices my infatuation, and coxes us into conversation. I learn that her name is Viola, like the beautiful flower that represents just how modest and kindly she is. A little into our chat, a cry rings out. Viola excuses herself, and retreats to the back of the shop. I can just see her, consoling a baby. I am surprised that the mother of such a young child was not only working, but bringing the child to work with her. At first I am disheartened, as surely this means Viola has a partner, but when she returns I ask about the baby. Viola tells me that the baby is her daughter, named Flora. Viola has the bring the girl to work with her, as Flora's father passed away shortly before her birth. They have little money and Viola has no one to look after Flora while she works, so she had to bring her with her. I feel dreadful; there I am, with a bursting wallet in front of a wonderful young lady who needs money far more than I do. Still, I'll make the effort to come back here…"_

"I took Viola and Flora on a picnic today. I have never loved watching a woman laugh as I did today. Flora enjoyed it to; the girl is such a little treasure. I have never really wanted to have children before, the idea of forcing my condition upon another life disgusts me, but watching this precious child… Perhaps I will adopt some day…"

_"__Bad news from my consultant; my illness has worsened. He suggests that I move to the fresh air of the countryside immediately. Archibald has agreed to move with me, for which I am very thankful, but I can hardly bear leaving my dear Viola and Flora behind. We have only known each other little over a year, but I love them more and more each day..."_

_"__Wonderful, wonderful, wonderful news! We left Flora in Archibald's care, as Viola and I had a romantic dinner. We walk down by the river, and in the moonlight I ask her to marry me. Well, things changed a little there; she said yes, in fact she was very excited. After the energy had worn off, Viola sighed happily; 'At last, Flora will have a father…' I quickly explained that, while I loved Flora as much as a father could, I knew I could never replace the one she lost. It was at these words that her face turned cold. 'that man…' she uttered. '… That man was no father…' She looked at me seriously, and explained that she had not been entirely honest with me: she explained that her former husband, Flora's father, was alive and well. They had been a happy couple, before his sudden and violent obsession with things she would not speak of. She had run away, fearing Flora's safety, and started a new life as a single mother. She then took my hand and whispered 'Augustus, you have changed my life. You have shown me that men can be kind, and that I could be happy again. I will marry you, my dear, but on one condition; I want you to be Flora's father. Not just her stepfather, I want her to grow up believing you are her real father. I fear that if she discovers the truth, she will put herself in the very danger I have tried to protect her from. Promise me, Augustus, promise me that you will help to protect her.' What else could I do? I agreed, of course, but I was somewhat stunned by this news. However, I'll do whatever it takes to look after my new family."_

_"__Alas, we must move again: this village was nice, however our maid discovered Flora's secret, and it spread like wild fire. Viola is in hysterics, fretting that someone will tell Flora the truth when she is older, or that the word will reach her former husband and he will track them down. For her sake, we must move, somewhere this won't happen again."_

_"__The new mansion feels so empty. We are surrounded by miles of woodland, which I brought to accompany the old house. Viola is still paranoid over the cook and maid that come in every day, but also lonely, with just Archibald and I to talk to. If only there was a way to have people here that we know we can trust…"_

_"__Finally, I found him. It took weeks to track him down, but I've finally found the man who believes he can create artificial human beings. He, Bruno, was a little sceptical of my intentions when we met; he tells me that he has been designing these machines for the best part of his life, but he could never get the funding. He has accepted the money I have offered him. With his help, I can build a village where I will live in health, Viola in peace, and Flora in safety. With Bruno's help, we can build St. Mystere."_

_"__I'm so sorry, Archibald… With all the construction, I've been so busy, too excited about my project… Did you die thinking your best friend was neglecting you? I have asked Bruno to make a special robot, to honour you. Bruno and I, we have become close friends, but he will never be like you Archibald… Goodbye."_

_"__Viola… No… Not my Viola… You were my Baroness, we had everything. This village was built upon our love: we had caring friends, a beautiful house, the most wonderful little girl. Why did you leave me so soon? My illness has been working its way through me for as long as I can remember, yet yours took you in heartbeat. No, I can't write this anymore."_

_"__What have I done? Archibald gave me inspiration, but I was wrong; you can't bring people back from the dead this way… Now I have upset Flora. What am I to do?"_

There followed a large number of blank pages and rippled edge's where paper had been torn out. Flora flipped through them, desperate to find something. Then, on the last few pages, she found it:

_"__My dearest Flora. If you are reading this, then I am long dead, and you have been taken into the care of Professor Hershel Layton (yes, I know he is the one to have found you, but more on that later). Flora, I have instructed Bruno to give you this diary as you leave St. Mystere behind you. From reading it, you have come to learn that I am not your biological father; as you have read, your mother wished you never to gain access to this information, but it is my belief that you have the right to know, so I decided to tell you through this diary once you were under the protection of a guardian._

_I constructed your adoption to look like your potential guardian could be anyone, but in truth, this puzzle was set up for Hershel from the start; hopefully, it will come as no surprise to you that, when I learned that my illness was close to ending my_ _life, my first concern was who would look after you? I did not want to hand you into the care of a complete stranger, if I had, you would have been adopted long ago. I have no living relatives, and neither did your mother. I was about to give up my search, when I remembered that, somewhere, you have a father. Of course, I was not going to put you in his care, after everything your mother has done to protect you from him, but I wondered, what if he had family members willing to take care of you? It took a long time, but due to some connections and, I am very embarrassed to say, a fair amount of bribery, I managed to track down his family tree. I made a promise to your mother, so I will not tell you any information about him, please forgive me. I learned that you had grandparents, however, they have been missing for many years. The last member of this otherwise rather dysfunctional family tree, is Hershel. You can imagine my surprise upon the discovery that your apparently dangerous father is brother to a well-respected gentleman, a scholar and part time detective. After some research, it became clear that this man is perfect guardian material. I wished to contact him immediately, but I realised that he was adopted at a young age, and may not even be aware of his former family. I feared that if a stranger were to call on him and announce 'you do not know me, but I know everything about your family and want you to adopt your niece that you did not even know existed' then he might have some objections. Instead, I have decided to make your adoption look like an accident, as it would be easier that way; the will shall be made public, and anyone can attempt the puzzle, but Hershel shall be the only one to receive an invitation, and direction to St. Mystere. The puzzles contained in these walls shall be of a standard only a genius such as himself can solve. I hope my plan has been successful._

_Flora, I hope that learning that I am not your true father has no effect on your love for me. I loved you more than any father ever could, and I will continue to watch over you, for as long as you live. I love you."_

Flora wiped the dampness from her eyes. So, she had always meant to be with the Professor after all? Well, that explained the staggering coincidence that she had been adopted by her uncle. She read through the last letter again. Her Papa sounded so worried, as if he thought she might hate him, but how could she? Learning what he done, how he had helped her mother in that way, building an entire village just to keep her mind at ease, it made Flora admire him more than she ever had before. It was she who had let him down. She had led Targent to her Papa's fortune. What had a silly girl as herself done to deserve such a kind, smart and loving Papa?

There was a polite knock at the door. Flora quickly wiped her tears away. "C-come in." She croaked. Luke opened the door slightly, looking anxious. He coughed.

"Um… Mr Sycamore want so see us." Flora nodded and followed him out of the room, leaving what was left of her real father behind on the bed.

**(P.S. I just want to say a massive thank you to all the people who have ever left lovely comments on my stories: LittleBrotherSocket, TheMockingJ, all the guests and so many others! Just reading back through your comments, no matter how old, gives me the strengths to start writing again xxx)**


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